


Oh My, Death Approaches!

by orphan_account



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: (bout time), F/M, Feelings Realization, Minor Character Death, Spoilers, minor language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 13:43:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13976343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Azama could see all the wonders his Lady had to offer as a person even without sight. Against his claims about vows of love being wastes of time, he had found himself unnoticeably falling for the brash beauty, Hinoka.-In which Azama finds Hinoka aggravating and amazing at the same time.





	Oh My, Death Approaches!

**Author's Note:**

> I had originally planned to write the dialogue myself, but their A-Support convo was perfect. All the exchanges in this fic is by Nintendo in Fire Emblem Fates (as well as the character, obviously)

He could feel himself becoming closer to his liege. She even willingly admitted to admiring him. Well, his confidence, but good enough. It was as if there was a tie between them becoming stronger; making them stronger. Yes, an invisible force was setting up the absurdist monk with the high princess of Hoshido. That made sense.

Usually, while Azama meditated, his mind was blissfully blank. The forces of nature did not stir him and the presences of others could be distinguished from afar. Yet today, his head flooded with thoughts the royal pegasus rider he served.

Lady Hinoka: the princess that seemed have a red echidna on her head and wrinkled clothes she apparently didn’t pay mind to. The stubborn beauty of the sky whose soars with spear in hand. The poise, narrow-minded belle stabbing fear in enemies and gracing allies with her fervent charisma. The infuriating, winsome, overly headstrong,  _ magnificent- _

His thoughts were interrupted by a chill that went down his spine.

Ah, someone was nearby.

Once he finished patting around the grass next to him for his bloom festal, he rose to his feet. He was in the mood to make someone fume and stumble over their words. Following the sound of mostly incoherent mumbling, not only did he find the person, but decipher who she was.

  


“I can't believe it... Another senseless death…” The very soul who was occupying his mind said in a low voice.

“Are you speaking of the young soldier injured in our last battle?” he piped up when she didn’t seem acknowledge him near her.

Judging from the stirring of the air in front of him, Princess Hinoka had turned around to face him. “Yes,” she began slowly, but a hint of desperation grasped her voice, “He's barely hanging on... But... maybe you can help! Quickly! Grab your staff and get to his tent!”

Azama bit back the urge to snark; for with his staff already in hand, he, the practically blind man, could see better. Instead, he sighed, “Sorry, it's not worth my time or effort.” Hinoka’s aura gained more heat and he mentally prepared himself for her retort.

“How can you say that?! A man's life hangs in the balance!”

Her tenacity for helping the dying was admirable, slightly annoying, but admirable. He had the temptation to open his eyes, just to see the blurry mess of red before him, more than likely anticipating his ‘witty’ response.

“No,” he answered simply. Alas, he could still feel her eyes boring into him, wanting more reasoning. “He's not long for this world,” the retainer supplied, “I've seen his injuries, and they are grave. We should just let him die in peace.”

“As long as he's still breathing air, he's worth saving,” she snapped, “Now, get on it!”

Her persistence, as endearing as he found it, was also rather annoying. “I said it before, I'll say it again,” his voice stayed level even with the vague irritation bubbling within, “people are meant to die…”

“This isn't the time for any of your lame philosophical crap!” Her arm swung dangerously close to his head. “This is a time for action!”

Azama chewed on the inside of his cheek, then exhaled sharply. “Very well- if you ORDER me to do this, I will do my very best.”

“YES! Now, get on with it!”

Another sigh escaped him, but he held his tongue and bowed.

Off to save the unsaveable and cure the incurable he went.

\-----

The soldier squirmed too much, screamed too much, but he was also in too much pain to still be alive, so it made sense. Azama didn’t want to continue trying to treat the dying man, no  _ boy _ . He should be left in peace, not placed under the healing magic of the festal and forced to fight for his life more than he had.

It was almost funny, for it reminded Azama of when he met Lady Hinoka. Then again, there was a passion he could feel when he approached that was unexplainable, but it made him so compelled to help her. This boy felt lost and dark like the deep sea. So he didn’t laugh.

In fact, the monk didn’t realize how badly he was trembling until the festal clattered to the floor. The man previously erratic breathing slowed gradually without the mending enchantment hastily stitching his already fatal wounds. The boy, no older than 17, was going to die, and Azama had only prolonged his suffering.

He didn’t waste his time healing the dying because of this. Because no one deserved to be in this kind of pain. The state between life and death where your modes of perception were numbed and there was only burning and darkness.

Azama murmured a short incantation as the spear fighter released his final breath. While he didn’t exactly believe the chant did a thing, he wanted to do something,  _ anything _ useful. He had failed. At the realization the boy on the cot laid dead for good, he collapsed onto his knees and inhaled deeply.

While he may bare quite the bit of regrets in his life, (such as the time he didn’t yell in time to stop Setsuna into a bear trap) this was most definitely in the top ten. Yet, with the overwhelming desire to break and all, he rose from the ground and began his journey to seek out his liege.

\-----

“Well, that was a lot of work,” he muttered mostly to himself, “But, in the end-”

“He lived?!” Azama jumped a bit at Hinoka’s sudden appearance. The hopeful optimism in her was evident, and it made it all the harder to speak.

“No,” he stated bluntly once he found his voice, wincing only faintly, “he died horribly. Lingering on far too long with grievous wounds.”

“NO!” She cried out, making a thud that Azama assumed was a poor wall taking a fist to it. Hissing a curse under her breath, she took a calming breath, “Well, thank you for trying.”

* ‘Trying?’ he thought to himself ‘It doesn’t matter if I tried. I failed, and the boy died, like he would have anyway. But no, not even on his deathbed could he stop battling, for there he fought Death. And there, in more agony than before, he lost.’

This time, he didn’t bother keeping the sardonic tone out, “I was just following orders. Orders that I wish I had disobeyed, to be perfectly frank.” He huffed, “You're a kind person, but I fear that one day your kindness will be your downfall.”

“Azama…” Hinoka’s voice was soft and reserved, nothing like it normally was. It wasn’t peremptory and made him (willingly) want to listen by just the power behind her words. It held a depressing undertone that made his stomach twist. Was this what guilt felt like? It was… icky, for the lack of a better word. He almost wanted to say-

“I'm sorry,” he blurted out. He’s said some insults in the past he wished he hadn’t, but he rarely directly apologized or felt remorse for it. “Of all the things I have said to you... and WILL say to you in the future… I believe that may have crossed a line. May you never lose your fragile innocence.” And he meant it.

“I... I don't know what to say to that.”

He had to admit; It was amusing to see her speechless.

“I'm sorry I didn't listen to your advice today,” she continued, “I'll try to look past your personality and remember that you can be wise at times.”

“Thank you,” he said, smug grin returned, “Although, honestly, I don't care if you take my advice or not. Sometimes life is more interesting when you don't.” And, with nothing more to say, Azama headed back toward his spot on the grassy hill to resume mediating. While he went, he could hear the well-disposed woman hum thoughtfully.

“Uh... huh.”

\-----

The sun was soon to set (he could guess by the dropping temperature), but Azama didn’t want to leave yet. An epiphany was in the making as he tried to harmonize with his distastes and pleasures.

He hated healing those who could not be healed. They didn’t deserve to suffer.

He hated letting enemies bleed out on the battlefield. Killing them is mercy, at times.

He hated forcing someone to the limbo of fate. But he was ordered to heal, so he healed. Even if it left him shaken, guilty, and with the slightest desire to cry.

Yet, amongst all these things he hated, he could never hate Hinoka. It wasn’t her, she simply wanted to help. He loved that about her. Now that he thought about it, he loved a lot of things about her. Her commanding aura, her rougher exterior, how easy it was to set her off with his jests, her attentive and determined character, and just  _ her _ .

Wait.

Sweet Hotoke.

He loved  _ her. _

…

Now to go waltz straight into her room and propose, dammit.

**Author's Note:**

> * the only 'dialogue' by me


End file.
